


Naughty Aurors: A Drarry Holiday Challenge Series

by LadyGaGalion



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 22:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 10,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2708627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGaGalion/pseuds/LadyGaGalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Draco are assigned the task of decorating the Auror Department’s Christmas tree together. Written for the daily challenges at slythindor100 and dracoharry100 on Livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Clever Charm

A sigh followed Harry as he turned the corner into yet another aisle of evergreens. It was the second such sound Malfoy had emitted in under five minutes. 

“It’s what’s _under_ the Christmas tree that matters, Potter.”

“You would say that,” Harry muttered. Once again he cursed his luck at being assigned the task of finding and decorating the Auror Department’s tree – with Malfoy. He supposed it was his punishment for having convinced Robards to give Lucius Malfoy’s son a chance and hire him. If there was one person who could ruin the magic of Christmas – Harry was quickly coming to realise – it was Malfoy. 

“This one looks as good as any,” Malfoy said.

They were standing in front of a pine tree with an abundance of long, soft-looking needles. “I like it,” Harry said, “but it’s crooked at the top.”

“Really, Potter?“ Malfoy stepped up beside him and, with a flick of his wand, the tree snapped into alignment.

Catching a whiff of pine, Harry smiled. “Right, thanks.” 

They stood in silence for a moment, as a flurry of snowflakes began to swirl around them. It was a bit too early and much too warm for snow. Harry assumed that the business was employing a snow charm for marketing purposes. A particularly fluffy snowflake landed on the tip of one of the tree’s branches and began to melt. 

Harry suddenly became aware of Malfoy’s proximity; he could almost feel the other man’s warmth. If it were anyone else beside him, he might have been tempted to reach out and take his hand. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something so _right_ about this night. 

“We’ll take this one, then?” The sound of Malfoy’s voice pulled Harry out of his thoughts. He sounded hopeful and eager to leave.

Harry’s heart sank a little, and he wasn’t sure why. “Yes, we’ll take this one.”


	2. A Curious Find

The Auror Department was quiet and nearly deserted when Potter and Draco returned from the Christmas tree farm. _Someone_ was still there, though; Draco heard the shuffling of papers in the back as he watched Potter guide their tree down to the ground with his wand. _Longbottom, probably_.

“Perfect,” Potter announced. 

Draco made a noncommittal sound as he began rummaging through his bottomless desk drawer. 

Potter’s eyebrows knitted together when he saw what Draco had pulled out. “Where did you get those? And… why? I wouldn't think they’re your style.” 

“I _Accio’d_ them,” Draco said, ignoring the second part of the question, which would be answered soon enough. He directed the joined strands of fairy lights to wrap themselves around the tree. 

“… From where?”

Draco shrugged. “Some Muggle’s property. I thought they had potential.”

With a wave of his wand Draco vanished the ugly green chord, leaving dozens of blue globe fairy lights floating just millimitres above the tree’s branches. A second wave, and they lit up. He heard a gasp, and was pleased to see that Potter was transfixed by his handiwork.

A moment later Potter shook his head clear. “You’re an Auror, Malfoy. You’re not supposed to go around stealing Muggles’ things.”

“They can buy new ones,” Draco said. “I wouldn’t know where to find them.”

“And I don’t suppose you could have, oh, I don’t know – asked them?” 

Draco whipped around. “No! I wouldn’t voluntarily talk to – “ He stopped himself. Potter’s jaw was set and his lips were drawn in a tight line. _Behave,_ Draco told himself. _He got you this job._

“What else to you have in here?” Potter asked, and before Draco could cast a Locking Charm, he thrust his arm deep into the bottomless drawer. 

“Get away from there!” Draco pulled Potter away from his desk, but not before the latter’s hand closed around the absolute worst possible thing. _Fuck!_

“What is this?” Potter turned away from Draco’s flailing arms and toward the corner of the cubicle as he took the lid off the velvet box.

The blood drained from Draco’s face. He stopped struggling and slumped against the edge of the wall, defeated. 

There was a pause during which Draco was certain he might die.

“Interesting,” Potter said at last. His voice had dropped an octave.

Draco could not look at the other man, but he knew he was examining a glass object that lit up red, then green, from the inside when exposed to a wizard’s ouch. 

“No wonder you always work late.”

Draco’s jaw dropped at the accusation. “I haven’t – it’s not – I was just sent that today!”

Potter snorted as he replaced the lid, and Draco felt his blood begin to boil. 

“What?” Draco demanded. His face was burning with shame now, but he wouldn’t back down. He had every right to keep a butt plug hidden in his desk drawer. Especially if it was an unexpected gift he had received that very day. Potter, however, had no right to go digging through a coworker’s things.

“Tell your boyfriend not to send you personal things to the office,” Potter said, pushing past Draco without so much as a glance on his way out. “It’s against department policy.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” Draco yelled after him. “I don’t know who sent it!” 

When he turned back around, he saw a set of eyes appear above a cubicle in the back of the row, where he’d heard the shuffling of papers earlier. 

“Evening, Longbottom.”


	3. A Most Trivial Assignment

“The fairy lights were Draco’s work,” Harry said, and Malfoy treated him to a glare.

Harry shrugged. “It’s nice.” He had thrown in that bit of info as a compliment to Malfoy, not to raise the issue of the lights’ origins again.

Robards watched them for a moment with a twinkle in his eyes. “I have an assignment for you two.” He reached over and pulled a thin file from under the Death Eater mask he used as a paperweight. “This was transferred over from the MLEP this morning. A rather trivial matter, but they’ve been unable to deal with it: an enchanted mistletoe.” 

He handed the file to Malfoy.

“Enchanted mistletoe, sir?” Harry echoed incredulously. 

“It’s taking over the house,” Robards said, and added with a laugh, "Poor old Mrs Eason is afraid to leave her rocking chair.”

Malfoy hadn’t moved a muscle since receiving the file. Harry took it from him lest it escape his rather loose grip. 

“After you’re done with that you can stop by Diagon Alley to buy some decorations, if you haven’t done that already.” 

“My mother’s donated some of our old decorations,” Malfoy said. “And a box of live fairies.”

Robards smiled. “Perfect! Be sure to give her our thanks, and enjoy a nice lunch once you’ve dealt with the, er… mistletoe.”

“Sir, don’t you think we should be – “ Harry started, his eyes darting to the mask on Robards’s desk. “I mean, the Death Eaters are –“

“You of all people deserve a break, Harry,” Robards cut in, squeezing Harry’s shoulder as he guided them back towards the door. “I have a brilliant team looking into the latest attack. Take this time to unwind.”


	4. The Assault of the Mistletoe

“Good morning, Mrs Eason. We – “ Draco stopped speaking when he realised that, as far as Mrs Eason was concerned, he might have as well have been mute and invisible. She was gazing up at Potter like a first-year seeing Hogwarts first time. He clenched his jaw and gestured for Potter to continue. 

Potter shot him a look of disapproval, then donned his most pleasant smile. “We’re with the Auror Department. We understand you’re having a problem with some enchanted mistletoe?”

The tiny old witch returned his smile, looking at him with wide, dreamy eyes. “Mistletoe?”

“Er… yeah,” Potter said. “May we come in?”

“Oh, oh, certainly.” Mrs Eason moved aside and pulled the door open a little wider. 

“That was very professional, by the way,” Potter muttered, leaning in to Draco as they stepped through, and Draco felt his face grow hot. 

“Oh!’” Potter exclaimed, stopping short. The mistletoe was indeed, as Robards had described, taking over Mrs Eason’s modest home. It covered every surface in the sitting room, except for the rocking chair, and a good portion of the kitchen beyond. All that could be seen of the Christmas tree was a bit of tinsel peeping through here and there, and the dancing fairy on top. 

“It grows if you disturb it,” Mrs Eason explained. “It wasn’t half this size before the boys from the MLEP starting messing with it. I had to ask them to leave before it got out of hand.” She took the back of Potter’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “But I’ve no doubt you’ll be able to fix this, Mr Potter.”

Draco rolled his eyes. 

Potter ducked out of reach of a branch that was stretching toward him. “I sure hope so.”

“Oh, dear!” Mrs Eason cried, hands flying to her heart as the rest of the mistletoe started to come alive. “It’s never done that before!”

It was an unnerving sight; hundreds, perhaps thousands of mistletoe leaves were shaking themselves awake and then stretching towards them. Despite the old witch’s warning, Draco pulled out his wand and pointed it at the spot where the plant was hung over the doorframe between the sitting room and the kitchen. 

“ _Stupefy!_ ”

The plant grabbed him like a Tentacula, and seconds later he found him shoved up against Potter. 

“Hello!” Potter squeaked, his face mere centimetres away from Draco’s. 

The branches were winding and tightening around them, bringing them even closer together. Potter’s body was warm and delightfully hard. Draco felt a rhythmic rush of blood to his head and thought he might faint. 

“Perhaps we should try kissing,” Potter suggested, each word a puff of warm breath against Draco’s mouth. Before Draco could respond, Potter’s lips were brushing against his own.

The mistletoe tightened its hold on them, but Potter wasn’t deterred; he pulled Draco closer, somehow managing to get a hold of his waist in spite of the abundance of mistletoe around them, and pressed his parted lips more firmly against Draco’s mouth. 

Draco moaned at the sudden onslaught of wetness and heat. His stomach was doing somersaults, and he heard music – a lovely melody rising around them, as if they were surrounded by an orchestra. Whether the sound was coming from inside his head or was a part of the mistletoe’s magic, Draco couldn’t be bothered to ponder. 

When Potter pulled back and Draco opened his eyes again, the mistletoe was gone. A wide-eyed Mrs Eason was watching them as if she’d never seen such a spectacle. 

“I er… believe we’ve just solved your mistletoe problem, Mrs Eason,” Potter said, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at Draco as if he’d never seen him before, flooding him with green. Draco wasn’t sure how he could feel as if he were being filled with colour, but he did and it was amazing. 

“I – yes,” Mrs Eason said. “I think so.”

Draco smoothed his robes as Potter stepped away from him and pointed his wand at the average-sized sprig of mistletoe hanging from the doorway. 

“We’ll take this with us, if you don’t mind,” Potter said. “Just to be sure this doesn't happen again.”

Draco thought he heard a touch of disappointment in Mrs Eason’s voice. “Y-yes, all right.”


	5. A Touchy Subject

“You — _kissed_ me.”

It was the first thing Malfoy said to Harry since leaving Mrs Eason’s, aside from a fervent protest when Harry had jokingly suggested that they go to Madam Puddifoot’s for tea. They’d decided on The Three Broomsticks instead, as neither of them had much of an appetite for lunch. 

“It seemed like the best course of action given the circumstances,” Harry said. What he wanted to say was something more along the lines of _Yeah, and it was brilliant_ or _I can do it again, if you want_ , but Malfoy was holding his mug of mulled cider so tightly his fingertips were turning white, and gazing off into the distance. Harry wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

“Did you, er…” Harry started, looking at the melting whipped cream in his own mug rather than at man sitting opposite him, “h-how was it?”

“Why do you ask?”

Harry shrugged, attempting to feign nonchalance even though his insides were twisting something fierce. “Just wondering. I’m kind of out of practice, so it’s as good a chance as any to get some feedback.”

Malfoy looked at him with a glint in his eyes, and Harry knew immediately that whatever answer he’d been looking for, that wasn’t it. 

“It was fine,” Malfoy said. “I didn’t see any fireworks or anything. And your glasses were digging into my face.”

“Oh — okay, then.” If Harry had wanted to retort, he could have pointed out that by the end Malfoy’s dick had been digging into his hip, but he thought it to drop the subject.


	6. The Broken Ornament

Back in the office, Draco took to decorating the Christmas tree with renewed urgency. Maybe if he got this done, Robards would be satisfied and stop coming up with new ways for Potter and him to work together.

 _Out of practice_ , Potter’s words echoed in his mind. _A chance to get feedback._ It hurt that Potter could kiss him and treat it as little more than a chance to brush up on his kissing technique.

And to think Draco had felt warm fuzzies in his belly – like a schoolgirl. He scoffed at his own soppiness.

“Ow!” Draco looked down at the broken ornament in his hand. He had been so lost in thought that he’d inadvertently crushed it.

“Are you all right?” A concerned voice asked.

Draco looked up to see Longbottom stepping up to him and taking his hand.

“You should be more careful,” Longbottom said, brushing bits of glass off Draco’s palm.

“Yeah, I should.” Draco tried to retrieve his hand, but Longbottom held it firmly and turned it over.

“Cool ring.” He brushed his thumb over one of the serpents bordering the Malfoy crest.

“Er – thanks.” Draco thought Longbottom’s behaviour odd. There was no logical reason for him to take a sudden interest in his family ring. Or to continue holding his hand…

“Oh.”

Both of them turned to see Potter standing a few feet away, lips drawn in a thin line. Longbottom was still holding Draco’s hand.

“I, er…” Potter scratched the back of his neck. “I came to see if you wanted help, but it certainly doesn’t look like you do.” He looked at their joined hands again, then back up at Draco. “Not my help, anyway.” And before Draco could think of a reply, he turned on his heel and stormed off.

“Is – everything okay between you two?” Longbottom asked, dropping Draco’s hand.

Draco watched Potter’s retreating back. “As good as ever.”

“So, er – “ Longbottom continued, “do you need help, then?”

“I guess so.”


	7. A Hot Cup of Tea

That evening found Harry sitting in front of the fire in his flat, nursing a cup of tea spiked with a splash of rum. The last twenty-four hours had been an emotional roller coaster: almost taking Malfoy’s hand at the tree farm had been surprising; discovering a butt plug in his drawer had been shocking; kissing him at Mrs Eason’s had been a taste of heaven; Malfoy telling him he hadn’t enjoyed it all that much had been disappointing. And finding Neville holding Malfoy’s hand… That had crushed him. 

_Malfoy and Neville_. Harry couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. 

He took a sip of his tea while staring at the flames, letting it warm him from the inside as it slid down his esophagus. He’d never entertained romantic or sexy thoughts about Malfoy before last night, and now he was pining for him. Malfoy’s lips had been so soft against his own. He’d tasted sweet and smelled like he’d just stepped out of the shower. And he’d felt so warm, pressed up against Harry. 

Harry wondered how warm Malfoy’s skin would have been if there hadn’t been layers of clothing between them, how soft it would would have felt under Harry’s calloused fingers. 

Harry’s grip on his cup tightened; he closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye he was Malfoy standing naked before him, right here in front of the fireplace. He was looking into Harry’s eyes as his hand strayed southward. He wrapped those long, slender fingers around his cock and a soft sigh escaped his lips. “Harry.”

Harry was getting hard. He bit his lip as he unzipped his flies with his free hand. His cheeks began to burn as he realised that he was about to toss off to thoughts of Draco Malfoy, and his pulse quickened. For the next few minutes he forgot that Malfoy didn’t want him as he allowed his fantasy to take over. 

Malfoy was naked on his knees in between Harry’s legs. One of his hands was gently rolling Harry’s balls, and his mouth was moving up and down Harry’s cock as he stroked himself. And maybe that tacky butt plug of his was snug inside his arse. 

Harry bit his lip as he climaxed, come spilling over his fingers in hot spurts. His cup of tea was still in his other hand.


	8. Pure Decadence

"Draco!"

"Pansy?"

Draco put down his goblet of cabernet sauvignon and walked over to the fireplace, where his friend's head had appeared within the flames.

"Finally," Pansy said as Draco squatted down in front of the hearth. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all week, but you're always working."

"Sorry, Pans. Mum told me you'd been looking for me, but I've been so busy… I completely forgot."

"Never mind that," Pansy said excitedly. "Did you get the present I sent you?"

Draco wrinkled his brow in thought. Christmas wasn't for another two weeks. If he had received a gift this early, he'd have – _oh_. He flushed. "You mean, the…"

Pansy grinned and nodded. "Yeah."

"But it said it was from a secret admirer…" After what had happened in the office earlier today, Draco had begun to strongly suspect Neville had sent him the anal plug. He'd been planning on _Vanishing_ it when he got back to his room.

"What, I can't be you secret admirer?" Pansy pouted. 

Draco looked around to make sure his parents weren't around, and leaned in closer to the fire. "I' afraid I don't understand. Why would you send me a – _that_?"

"To help you broaden your horizons, Draco," she said sweetly. "Have you tried it?"

"That's none of your – I mean, no!" 

Pansy gave a dramatic sigh. "What do I have to do to convince you to give blokes a try?"

Draco's legs were beginning to cramp. He sat down on his behind and hugged his arms around his knees. "I have."

Pansy's expression brightened. "Really?"

"Not like that," Draco added quickly. "I meant that there's someone who has piqued my interest. We kissed once, but we didn't really have a choice – "

"And…how was it?"

Draco's eyes glazed over as he remembered the kiss he'd shared with Potter, surrounded and ensnared by mistletoe. "It was incredible." He frowned. "But I don't think it meant anything to him."

"Nonsense," Pansy said. "How could anyone not want you?"

Draco rolled his eyes. 

"Who is he, anyway?" 

"Not tonight, Pansy," Draco said, shaking his head. There was a constricted feeling in his chest, and he needed more wine to numb it away. A good deal more wine. "I don't want to talk about it. We'll have dinner soon, and I'll tell you everything – I promise."

"Okay," Pansy said. "In the meantime, you should try to relax. You look worn. Have the elves prepare some of your favourite desserts and spend the rest of the evening in bed. Isn't that what you liked to do whenever you came home from Hogwarts?" 

Draco froze. That was _part_ of what he used to do. He'd always felt starved of privacy at Hogwarts, so whenever he'd come home he'd have a bath, then retire early with a tray of desserts and enjoy a nice, slow wank. He'd left that part out when telling Pansy about it, though. And he hadn't indulged in an evening like that since fifth year. Now he was tempted.

It appeared Pansy wasn't as oblivious to the finer details of his childhood pastime as he'd thought. "You could take your toy with you…" she suggested.

"Good night, Pans," Draco said.

Pansy smiled before her head disappeared from the flames.

❄   


Draco preferred to sleep in Egyptian cotton sheets, but for this occasion he'd transfigured them into the finest, softest silk. Wearing only a pair of thin, black pajama bottoms, he got in bed, propped himself up against the pillows, and set a silver tray across his lap. It was laden with cheeses and fruit, as well as whipped cream and chocolate fondue for dipping. He brought his wine, too. 

As he ate, Draco inevitably began to imagine it was Potter feeding him bits of Brie and chocolate-dipped strawberries. Then his thoughts strayed to licking whipped cream off Potter's fingers. 

Draco drained the wine in his goblet, then set the tray aside and retrieved from his nightstand drawer the same box Potter had discovered in his desk yesterday. Depositing it beside him on the bed, he lifted his hips and pulled his pajamas down. He kicked them off and leaned back against the pillows. A soft sigh left his lips as he dragged his fingertips up his inner thigh, then up over his balls, all the way to the tip of his erection. 

His pulse quickened in anticipation as he thought about the plug; he'd pushed a finger inside his arse once or twice while wanking, but that's where his experimentation had ended. 

Draco picked up the box, opened the lid, and tossed the toy aside for the moment. He pulled out the vial of oil that was nestled in the velvet lining, popped it open, and poured the oil over his fingers.

The entire time he prepared himself, his mind kept fantasising about Potter. He imagined it was Potter slipping his fingers inside him while sucking him off, that tongue that had been in his mouth hours ago sliding up and down cock. 

Draco couldn't wait any longer. He picked up the toy, which lit up red and green at his touch, and covered it with a generous amount of the oil. Still thinking about Potter, he sat up and positioned himself above it, so that the tip was pressing against his entrance. 

Draco held his breath as he lowered himself onto it, inch by inch, until at last it was completely buried inside him. It burned, and the feeling of fullness made his cock ache for attention. Moaning, he leaned back a little, supporting his weight with his left hand while his right circled around his shaft. 

He thrust carefully up into his fist, then pushed back against the plug. _Fuck, that feels good._ He did it again with a little more confidence, starting a slow but steady rhythm. 

A few minutes passed in this manner, and Draco's thighs were beginning to feel weak. His cock was dripping with pre-come, and all he could think about was how it would feel to have Potter inside him. He shifted his position, sitting back on his heel to push the plug in as deep as it would go, until the base of it was snug against his arse. His hand sped up on his cock, making obscene wet sounds.

He came with a shout.


	9. A Familiar Pain

Harry was beginning to dread being called into Robards' office. Lately it always presaged being assigned some ludicrous task to work on with Malfoy, and considering that Malfoy was a few feat ahead of him and going in the same direction, today would be no different. 

"Ah, there you are," Robards said as they entered, looking up at them over his reading glasses. "I was beginning to think you hadn't got my memo." 

"Sorry, sir," Harry said. "I was just having a chat with the Minister."

In truth, Harry had finished speaking to Kinglsey long before the memo had arrived; he'd just been avoiding the inevitable. Judging by Malfoy's sobre expression, the reason for his tardiness was the same. 

"No matter, no matter," Robards said. He closed the file he'd been examining and gestured at the two chairs in front of his desk. "Have a seat."

Harry and Malfoy eyed each other warily, until Harry decided to move first lest they remain standing by the office door forever. He took the seat on the right, and although he only watched Malfoy from the corners of his eyes, he didn't miss the way the other man winced as he lowered himself into the other chair. His heart sank. 

"Gingerbread cookie?" Robards asked, holding out a plate of screaming gingerbread men. When they both shook their heads and offered a polite _No, thank you_ , he put the plate down and continued. "You'll be pleased, Auror Potter. It looks like I have an assignment for you, after all."

"Brilliant." Harry forced a smile, but the last thing he wanted right now was to be briefed on a case. He had a pretty good idea of why Malfoy might be having trouble sitting down. He himself had encountered similar difficulties for an entire day in sixth year, after he and Ron had got a little carried away celebrating Gryffindor's Quidditch Cup win.

Most of Robards' speech went in one ear and out he other. He nodded occasionally while the Head Auror went on about a wizard named Stevens, a dark artifact, a Winter Ball, and a something about owls delivering their costumes later. His teeth worried the hard skin on the corner of this thumb as he pondered who Malfoy might have slept with. Had it been Neville? The person who had sent him that anal plug? Or were they one and the same?

Harry's stomach turned. 

"Any questions?" Robards asked.

Harry shook his head, and Malfoy's response was deadpan. "None at all."


	10. Draco's Suspicion

 

Draco was seething. _A maid's outfit._ As if there weren't any female Aurors in the department. 

Robards was up to something, and Draco was beginning to suspect he knew exactly what it was. 

A knock on the bathroom door distracted him from adjusting his bra. 

"Malfoy, are you almost ready?" Potter asked with exasperation. 

" _Almost_ ," Draco replied through gritted teeth.

They'd met in Potter's flat to go over the details of the case again – it was as if Potter hadn't heard a word Robards had said yesterday – and to get ready. 

Draco was a nervous wreck. Potter's behaviour had been impossible this entire past week. They hadn't exactly become best friends since the war, but they'd managed to be civil toward each other. Now, Potter was snapping about everything and criticising his every move. 

If Draco didn't know better, he'd say Potter was acting like a jealous, heartbroken, and vindictive spouse. But he did know better. Their conversation in the Three Broomsticks about the kiss was proof that Potter didn't fancy him in the least. 

_Someone should fill Robards in on that_ , Draco thought, _so he can abort operation Cupid's Arrow and leave us the fuck alone._

Draco looked the mirror to make sure his lipstick was even. He wiped a little bit off the corner of his mouth with his finger, then stepped back and took a deep breath. 

When Draco stepped out of the bathroom, Potter was dozing in a chair by the Christmas tree, head resting in his white-gloved hand. 

Draco cleared his throat, causing Potter to jerk awake and spill the eggnog he'd been holding when he fell asleep.

"I'm ready."


	11. The Man in the Antlered Mask

"Er… Malfoy?"

Harry had finally recovered enough from the shock of seeing Malfoy in his maid costume to magically clean the spilt eggnog from his glove and trousers. He looked away awkwardly, trying not to ogle his partner. 

"What?" asked Malfoy.

"Don't you find it odd that Robards is having you go to Stevens' ball looking like that? I mean, don't housemaids usually finish their work _before_ the party?" 

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Really, Potter, have you not heard a thing anyone has told you these past two days?" He pulled his skirt down a little and smoothed down the apron. "The maids will mostly be there for the gentlemen's' entertainment. Normal maids don't dress like this." He indicated the super short skirt and stockings.

"Oh…right." And Harry, under the disguise of a Glamour Charm, would be keeping an eye on the situation while serving drinks or hors d'oeuvres . He didn't like the thought of Malfoy secretly searching the castle for dark artefacts, _looking like that_ , in what sounded like shady company. 

"Have you got your wand?" Harry asked. Maids were typically Squibs, so Draco would have to keep his wand concealed and refrain from using it unless he was in real danger. 

Malfoy mumbled something unintelligible. 

"Sorry?" 

"It's in my garter belt," Malfoy repeated, and he cast Harry a look that dared him to comment. 

Harry scratched the back of his neck. The room was starting to feel unbearably hot. "Right – shall we Apparate, then?"

"Yes." Malfoy reached out to take Harry's proffered arm. "Let's get this over with."

❄   


Harry watched anxiously as Malfoy ascended the grand staircase. They'd only arrived at the ball about ten minutes ago, and Harry had already lost count of how many wizards – as well as a witch or two – had cast lewd stares at Malfoy and reached out to touch him as he passed.

Harry hadn't attended many balls, but he was sure this was no ordinary ball. All of the attendees, with the exception of the servers and maids, wore masks, and many were scantily clad. Everywhere he looked, people were groping each other, and some looked like they were beginning to engage in acts that are usually kept behind closed doors.

Harry swallowed, his pulse racing. 

He and Draco were at an orgy. 

Harry started as he felt someone brush against him. When he turned, he saw a man wearing a wooden mask with antlers resembling those of a reindeer.

The man flashed a dazzling smile. "No need to be alarmed," he said as he took two drinks from Harry's tray. "I just fancied a couple of these."

"Right," Harry said under his breath. He'd almost forgotten about the drinks. 

His eyes followed the handsome stranger as he wound his way through groups of revelers and started up the staircase. 

Harry's blood ran cold.


	12. A Saving People Thing

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Draco shouted as they Apparated outside the door to Harry's flat. The idiot almost blew their cover. As it was, Draco wouldn't be surprised if Stevens hid his collection of dark artefacts when he found his son unconscious and Obliviated in his study.

"I saved you," Potter snarled. 

"I had the situation under control." Draco jerked his arm out of Potter's reach, but the latter gripped his hip and shoved him against the door. Draco's head hit the wreath and some pine needles sprinkled onto his head and shoulders. 

"You were drinking it," Potter said, referring to one of the festive red drinks that Stevens junior had appeared with – just after Draco had reemerged from the secret chamber behind the study. "Even a schoolgirl would know better."

Draco's eyes fluttered closed. His erection was trapped between Potter and him, and he was sure his partner could feel it. "I recognised that it was laced with a simple Lust Potion that wouldn't impair my ability to do my job. A real maid wouldn't have dared to refuse him."

Potter's eyes were burning into his own. "Even if this " – he ground against Draco's cock just hard enough for him to feel it – "didn't impair your ability to think, how were you planning on getting out of there with your virtue intact?"

Draco chuckled at the bit about his virtue. His hands went to Potter's hips, pulling him closer. "I assumed that once he found out I was a man, he wouldn't like it. Either he'd leave or he'd attack me, in which case I could fight him off and get away without _blowing my cover_."

"I see." Potter slid his hand over Draco's on his hip. He was still wearing those white gloves. He leaned in closer and whispered in Draco's ear, "And what if he did like it?"

They looked at each other for a moment, but before Draco could come up with an intelligent response, Potter's lips smashed into his own. 

This kiss was nothing like the one they had shared at Mrs Eason's. It was fierce and unapologetic. Draco tasted the sharp tang of blood after Potter bit down on his lower lip. 

"I don't want anyone else touching you," Potter said. "Not Stevens, not Neville, and definitely not whoever sent you that sex toy." When he kissed Draco again it was gentler, although still passionate and demanding.

Draco felt a fluttering low in his belly, and he moaned into Potter's mouth. One of Potter's hands was sliding up underneath his skirt, and it took all of Draco's willpower to grab it and hold it still. 

Draco turned away from Potter's lips, breathing hard. "I'm not a woman."

"Trust me, I know."

"Then lets go inside, where no one can see us and I can change."

Potter sighed regretfully. "Yeah, I suppose this isn't very romantic, is it?"

"I just want to feel more myself," Draco said, though he was no longer sure if they were really having this conversation or if he was dreaming. Judging by the look on Potter's face as he stepped back, the confusion was mutual.

"Right. Okay, let's go inside."


	13. A Desire for Warmth

_There_ , Draco thought, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He finally looked normal again. He'd taken care of his Lust Potion-induced erection, put on his own clothes, returned his hair back to just past its normal length, and washed off his makeup. Who would have thought mascara was so difficult to remove? Draco wondered if witches had a special spell for that.

He exited the bathroom with butterflies in his stomach. He was remembering how it had felt when Potter had pinned him to that door and ravished him. His lips had been velvety soft and his mouth and hands possessive and demanding. Draco wondered if they were indeed going to continue where they'd left off, now that they'd had a moment to cool down; he wished that they would. 

He found Potter in the sitting room with two mugs of butterbeer, a plate of sliced fruitcake, and a candle on the coffee table. 

"So," Draco said, trying for nonchalance, "is this you trying to be romantic?"

Potter looked up. His eyes were so green, even behind those glasses, and Draco couldn't stop staring. 

"I thought you might be hungry," Potter said. "Or cold. I heated up the butterbeer."

Draco was indeed still a bit cold after his adventures in the sexy maid costume. Butterbeer sounded nice, but he hoped that as the night progressed Potter would come up with other ways to keep him warm.


	14. A Wonderful Confession

The firelight cast a warm glow on Malfoy's hair as he and Harry sat curled up on the sofa, drinking their butterbeers. Harry was trying not to stare, and failing miserably. Malfoy looked like an angel, all pale skin, fine features and a golden halo about his head. 

"… Are you even listening to me?" 

Harry snapped back to attention. "Yes," he said, and it wasn't a complete lie – he had caught bits and pieces of what Malfoy had been saying. "I never had an Advent calendar. My aunt and uncle never got me anything. I used to be jealous of my cousin's, though."

Malfoy frowned. "I can't imagine Muggle Advent calendars are very exciting, to be honest."

"Well, they don't start a snowball fight with you, that's for sure." They both laughed, and Harry noticed how relaxed and unguarded Malfoy looked. He'd never seen him like this before. It was a refreshing sight. 

Malfoy – _Draco_ – dropped his gaze and dragged his finger along the rim of his glass. "I lied to you, P-Harry."

Harry's heart leapt at the sound of his given name on Malfoy's lips. "About what?" 

"About that first kiss." Their eyes met, and Harry felt a pleasant warmth spread through his chest. 

"I'm sure you knew all along, but…I loved it. I was just afraid to admit it because I didn't think you felt the same."

Harry was floating on clouds. For a moment he just sat there smiling like an idiot.

"Did you really only ask me if I liked it to assess your skills?" Draco asked incredulously. 

Harry swallowed. "No. I asked because I was hoping you enjoyed it as much as I did."


	15. The Enchanted Ceiling

Entering Harry's bedroom, Draco felt as if he were holding his very first ticket for the Hogwarts Express once more. There was a sense of anticipation and of privilege, as well as curiosity about whether or not the experience would meet his expectations. 

Harry was behind him, holding his waist and kissing his neck as he kicked the door shut behind them. In the darkness, Draco could see that Harry's ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky. Unlike the ceiling in the Great Hall, however, this one did not reflect the weather conditions. He knew because it was cloudy outside, but here there were hundreds of stars twinkling above them. 

"It always shows the stars," Harry explained, looking up as well. His lips grazed Draco's cheek as he spoke. "Originally it reflected the phases of the moon, too, but I asked Hermione to change it. It was too bright to sleep when the moon was full." 

"Granger did this?" Draco asked, lifting his arms as Harry pulled his jumper of his head. He shouldn't have been surprised. Granger was a brilliant witch. 

"Yeah. Would you like a better view?" Harry asked, and in one swift motion he threw Draco onto his back on the bed.

Draco's stomach did somersaults as Harry looked down at him and grinned. He looked as happy – and nervous – as Draco felt. 

"Starlight suits you," Harry said.

Draco wrapped his legs around him and pulled him in for a kiss. As their tongues met, Harry's fingers curled on his naked waist and gave him the most delightful of shivers. He could feel Harry's erection against his own, and an unexpected, powerful thrust caused Draco to break the kiss and gasp. 

Harry looked deep into his eyes as he repeated the movement. 

"Yes," Draco hissed, tightening his grip on the other man. After that he met each and every thrust, relishing in the friction and the feeling of Harry moving on top of him. 

They were going to come like teenagers rubbing up against each other in hidden alcoves, but Draco didn't care. There would be time for a real shag. All that mattered now was the pressure building in his groin, Harry's weight on top of him, and the sound of his ragged breathing against his ear. He was so turned on his cock ached.

Draco arched against Harry and held him tightly as he climaxed. His cock pulsed again and again, wet heat soaking through to his trousers. 

"So hot…" Harry gasped, rutting harder against him. When he came, it was with Draco's name on his lips.

Sated, Draco let himself fall back against the mattress. A moment later Harry cast a Cleaning Charm on them both before lying down beside him. They watched the stars in silence for a while.

"We should have done that long ago," Draco said, gazing up at Mars. 

Harry slipped a hand underneath Draco's own and entwined their fingers. "I couldn't agree more."


	16. A Naughty Note

Harry awoke with the vague feeling that there was something different about this morning. He was happy – happier than he'd been in a very long time – but he wasn't sure why.

As he regained consciousness, he began to remember the previous night – kissing Draco, groping him, making him come. Harry grinned and reached out his arm, expecting to find Draco lying beside him, but his hand landed on empty sheets. He raised himself up on one elbow and looked around. Draco was gone. But as Harry lay back down with a heavy heart, he found a note on the empty pillow beside him. He reached for his glasses and began to read it.

> _Harry,_
> 
> _I hoped you'd wake up before I had to go… I promised my mother that I'd go shopping with her after breakfast today. Robards fire-called after you fell asleep last night to check on us. I've updated him._
> 
> _Will you be my date to the Ministry Christmas party tonight?_
> 
> _Draco_
> 
> _P.S. All I want for Christmas is you…naked.  
> _

Harry lay back against his pillow with the note still in his hand. He reread the more interesting bits multiple times with a silly grin on his face. Then he remembered that he had nothing suitable to wear to a party – at least, nothing that would do if he was going to be Draco's date. That would have to be amended. 

Harry had plans to go ice-skating with Hermione early in the afternoon. Perhaps she'd be up for going shopping with him afterward. He could use some help if he wanted to get an outfit of which Draco would approve.


	17. A Terrible Decision

Draco should have known better. Asking Harry to be his date to the Ministry Christmas party had been an impulsive decision, and impulsive decisions rarely yielded good results.  
   
The whispering had begun as soon Harry had taken his hand when they'd arrived in the Atrium. People Draco didn't know sneered at him as he passed, and even those who had treated him civilly since he’d begun working for the Ministry gave him looks of contempt.  
   
Harry – who looked dashing in ink black robes, a black shirt, and a green tie that matched his eyes – seemed unfazed. Indeed the only sign that he'd even noticed the commotion they were causing was a light squeeze he gave Draco's hand as they entered the lift.  
   
Draco stood with his arm pressed against Harry's, drawing strength from his proximity.  
   
"Now we know why Draco Malfoy chose to become an Auror," a witch behind them whispered loudly. Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw her companion nod.  
   
Harry stiffened, and for a moment Draco feared he might cause a confrontation. But the lift stopped, and Draco led him out. They had arrived at level one, where the party was being held.  
   
The large meeting room had been decorated red, green, and gold for the occasion. There were two fir trees on either side of the fireplace, over which hung an evergreen garland with red poinsettias and a matching wreath. Granger-Weasley and her ginger husband were standing nearby, sipping their drinks.  
   
"Let's go and say hi to Ron and Hermione," Harry said, and he started leading Draco in their direction.  
   
"Hi, Harry!" Granger said, smiling. "Nice to see you, Draco."  
   
"Same here, Gr – Hermione." He felt awkward calling her by her given name for the first time.  "Weasley."  
   
"Malfoy," Weasley muttered, looking past him. Granger had probably forewarned him that Harry and Draco would be attending together, but his displeasure was clear; his coldness toward Draco was even more palpable than it was at work.  
   
Draco turned to Harry. "I'm going to get us drinks."  
   
When Harry nodded, he let go of his hand and went off in search of alcohol. He'd got the impression of things unsaid between Harry and the Weasel. Perhaps if he gave them some time to speak freely in his absence, the tension would dissipate a little by the time he returned.

At last he found a table laded both traditional and holiday-themed drinks.  
   
"Good evening, Auror Malfoy," someone said beside him as he picked up a small glass of spiked eggnog for Harry and a flute of champagne for himself.  
   
It was Robards, and he was wearing a grin that lit up the room.  
   
"Good evening, sir."  
   
"I see that my efforts have finally paid off," Robards said, casting a glance across the room at Harry.  
   
Draco smiled to himself. His suspicion was confirmed – Robards had been playing matchmaker. There was no cheek in his tone, however, when he asked, "And do you think your efforts were wise, sir?"  
   
Robards put his arm around Draco and walked with him. "I do," he said. "Harry's belief in you was the reason I decided to give you a chance – and I'm glad I did. Don't worry about this – " Robards gestured at the people around them. "They'll get over it. What matters is that you and Harry are happy, and I think you might be able to make each other happy.”  
   
They stopped a few feet away from Harry and the others. Robards squeezed his shoulder before letting him go. "Always be true to yourself, Draco."  
   
Draco nodded. "I will, sir. Enjoy the party."  
   
“You too." Robards winked before he turned on his heel and headed off in the other direction.  
   
Draco took a sip of his eggnog as he approached Harry. He was close enough now to hear bits of Weasley's rant. "… all this time. And all because you wanted him."  
   
Weasley said 'wanted' as if Harry wanting him – Draco assumed he was the subject of the argument – were a crime against humanity.  
   
"No, that’s not why," Harry said. He was trembling with anger. "I just wanted to do the right thing. I never meant to – "  
   
Granger caught sight of Draco and nudged Harry, who immediately backed down. Weasley clenched his jaw as Draco approached.  
   
"We're leaving," Harry announced, taking his arm and turning him around.     
   
"Harry, don't go!" Granger cried after them, but Harry was determined.  
   
Draco barely had time to put their drinks down as he was dragged out of the room.


	18. An Early Present

"I'm sorry," Harry said as Draco stepped out of the Floo behind him. He took off his robes and deposited them onto the nearby chair. "About Ron and all of the others. You deserve better than that."

"Do I?" Draco asked quietly behind him. 

Harry turned and met his gaze. The doubt written on Draco's face pained him. "Yes," he said firmly, "you do."

He helped Draco out of his robes and then loosened his own tie. "That thing you asked for in your note… Do you want it a bit early?"

"What?" Draco looked confused, but Harry was already unbuttoning his shirt. 

He watched Draco's lips part as he remembered the contents of the note and realised what Harry was doing.

"Harry, you're upset."

"I was upset," Harry said. It was true. He could already feel the tension in his muscles melting away. There was no point in dwelling on Ron's words; he'd spoken in anger, but Harry had faith that he would come around. "It doesn't matter what anyone says. Having you in my life now… It just might be the best Christmas I've ever had. I want to make the best of every moment." 

And right now, making the best of every moment meant offering himself fully – body, heart, and soul – to Draco. He tossed his shirt on top of their discarded robes. Draco's eyes swept over Harry's shoulders and down his torso, giving him shivers. They followed the movement of his hands as he began to work on his belt buckle. 

"Are you sure you'll still want me come Christmas?" Draco teased

Harry nodded.

Draco's lips twitched upward on one side. "You'll have to compete with the pudding, if you want to be my favourite, er...holiday item."

Harry watched Draco's Adam's apple bob as he stepped out of his trousers and pants. He kicked them aside, grinning. "I doubt I've much to worry about."


	19. The Unexpected Invitation

"Fuck me." 

The pillow-muffled command came before Draco had even opened his eyes, but it had him awake in an instant. He opened one eye. "What?" 

"Fuck me," Harry repeated, turning his head towards him. He was lying naked on his belly. The blanked covered only half of one leg. Draco took in the curve of his bare buttocks and felt his cock twitch in response.

"Aren't you sore from last night?" Draco remembered that he'd got a little rough toward the end.

Harry moved as if to try to turn around, but then he winced and dropped back down into his original position. "Yeah, but somehow it makes me want you even more."

Draco felt a stirring in his groin. The sight of Harry sprawled out like that, asking to be fucked even though he was sore from last night, was more than he could handle this early in the morning. 

"Are you just going to lie there, all lazy and indulgent like that?" Draco asked, already unscrewing the cap on the lube. 

"For now." 

Harry gasped as the first finger penetrated him, and Draco caught his mouth in a sloppy kiss. That mouth that had been on his cock only hours ago, Draco realised as he began to push in and out of Harry. And _sweet Salazar_ how it had made him feel.

Draco added a second finger and, perhaps too quickly, a third. But Harry was snapping his hips back against Draco's hand, eager for more. 

Draco withdrew his fingers and spread a generous amount of lube over his cock. He didn't miss the way Harry licked his lips as he watched, even while he reached for a pillow to put under his hips. 

"I can't wait to have a go at you," Harry said as Draco positioned himself above him. 

"Next time – " Draco breathed as he slid inside Harry's tight arse which, along with gasping and sheet-clenching, was almost enough to make Draco come on the spot. "Promise?"

"Yesss."

❄   


"Paw prints in the snow," Harry mumbled as Draco slid off of him and lay back against his pillow. 

"What?"

"It's what I dreamt about," Harry said, smiling wistfully. "I just remembered."

"Oh." 

The dream probably had to do with Sirius Black – a topic he and Harry hadn't broached since that not-so-subtle hint he'd made back in fifth year. Draco deflated as he realised that there were probably quite of few such things that might make him or Harry uncomfortable in the future, if they were to stay together. But he'd brought that on himself. 

"I told my mother about us," Draco said, looking down at his hands. "She said I was 'glowing' whilst we were shopping yesterday. I couldn't really keep it from her."

"That's okay," Harry said with a shrug.

Draco hesitated. "You're invited to join us for Christmas dinner."

Harry was still for a moment. Then he turned to look at him, brow wrinkled. "At Malfoy Manor?"

"Yes – that's where we live." Draco's stomach felt like a lead weight. 

Harry looked horrified. 

"I understand if you don't want to come," Draco said. "I just wanted to let you know. I told Mother I would." 

Harry took his hand, and when Draco looked at him he was sucking in a deep breath. "I'll go." 

Draco stared, his mouth falling open. 

Harry nodded once, but which one of them it was meant to convince, Draco wasn't sure.

"I'll go."


	20. Foreboding

It was a cold day, and London was having its first snowfall of the season. Harry shoved his hands in his pockets and continued trudging through the snow. The air was painful to inhale, but it offered a measure of relief from the suffocating feeling he'd experienced after today's meeting with Robards and the other Aurors. 

Harry had a bad feeling about tonight's raid of the Stevens property, though he couldn't explain why. It seemed like they had all of their bases covered. They'd thought everything through; planned for every potential obstacle they could think of. And yet Harry couldn't shake the feeling that something awful was going to happen tonight. 

He steered toward the edge of the sidewalk as a group of carolers passed by, their cheerful song grating on his nerves. The past couple of days, with the exception of the Ministry Christmas party fiasco, had been nothing short of perfect. 

_Maybe that 's what it is_ , Harry thought as he wiped some snow off a bench to sit down. Maybe this feeling of foreboding was just a manifestation of his fear of losing Draco. So much had changed between them in such a short period of time. He'd barely got a glimpse of what was beneath Draco's carefully crafted exterior, and now he was faced with the threat of having it wrenched away – and he would continue to face the same threat every time Draco went out into the field. 

And it was Harry who had encouraged him to apply to beome an Auror and pestered Robards into accepting him. If he hadn't done that, Draco wouldn't be in danger. But then they'd still be barely on speaking terms.

Harry sighed at the irony of it all.


	21. A Heroic Act

"Ron, what were you thinking?"

Harry had asked the same question twice already, but he had yet to receive a satisfactory answer. 

Ron shifted in the hospital bed and looked away, not saying anything. 

"I mean, to jump in front of an unfamiliar curse…" 

Harry's prodding finally earned him an incredulous look from his friend. 

"It would have hit the Ferret square in the chest," Ron said, and his expression turned somber. "I had to do it – for you."

That was the part of the story that Harry had been trying to push to the back of his mind. It was too painful to think about. If Ron hadn't shielded Draco, the latter might have been killed. Harry would have been devastated. But Ron could have died, too – and in some ways the thought of that was even worse. 

"I – thank you." The words were insufficient to convey Harry's gratitude, but they were all he could muster at the moment. "Truly."

"Just don't tell Mum why I got hit," Ron said, coughing. "I – I'd never hear the end of it. 

Harry handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. "I won't."

Ron took a few sips and set the glass back down. "Honestly, this works out quite well. Hermione's taking Dad on some tacky Muggle light tour and to see some snow sculpture of the Hogwarts Express. I'd have to go with them if I wasn't stuck here for the night."

Harry laughed. "Sounds like something your Dad would enjoy, though."

"Yeah." Ron made a face. "He's been looking forward to it all week.


	22. Pureblood Traditions

"So, what do you think?" Harry asked, indicating the lights of St Regents. 

They were walking a few steps behind Hermione and Arthur, who was pointing and _Ahh_ ing at everything. 

Draco shrugged, trying to for nonchalance, but he couldn't hide a small smile. "It's – decent. Better than I expected."

Harry leaned in and whispered, "I wouldn't recommend stealing any of the lights, though."

"Oh, shut it," Draco said, elbowing him playfully. He remembered how upset Harry had been when he found out how Draco had acquired the lights that were currently adorning the Auror Office's Christmas tree. 

Harry put his arm around his waist. "About Christmas Eve – " he said, "any strange pureblood traditions I should be aware of ahead of time?"

"Haven't you always spent the holidays with the Weasleys?" Draco asked. He didn't think their traditions could be much different.

"Usually. But as you know, they don't always do the whole pureblood thing…"

"Right, of course," Draco said. "They don't have house-elves to roast over the Yule log. I didn't think of that."

Harry stopped walking and looked at him. 

"But don't worry, it's always the oldest one to go. "

"You don't have that many house-elves to spare," Harry said, and he sounded relieved to have arrived a that conclusion. "I remember your father was outraged when I freed Dobby."

Draco took Harry's arm and began guiding him forward again. "No, we don't. You've got nothing to worry about."


	23. A Crown of Holly

"I must say, I never understood the – _tradition_ of pulling Christmas crackers," Lucius said. The wine glass in his hand tipped dangerously as he talked. "Perhaps you could enlighten me, Mr Potter. You seem like someone who is no stranger to such an activity, having been raised by Muggles and consorting with the Weasleys. What is the appeal of those dreadful things?"

Harry took a sip of wine to keep himself from laughing. If anyone had told him mere weeks ago that he'd be spending Christmas Eve with the Malfoys, listening to a tipsy Lucius talk about crackers while wearing a ridiculous crown of holly, he'd have said they were barking. (Draco had forgot to mention that it was tradition for the head of the household to wear such a crown on Christmas Eve as a representation of the Holly King.)

"Er…" Harry said, putting his goblet down. "I think it's just meant to be fun."

Beside him, Draco snorted. 

"Fun," Lucius repeated, as if the word felt strange on his tongue. "Hmm. Narcissa, do Christmas crackers sound like fun to you?"

"Not particularly," Narcissa replied, pushing at a bit of pudding with her fork. "But I've never been fond of noisy things."

Harry, who was very fond of noisy things, nudged Draco under the table. 

"Haha, very funny," Draco said. He had rolled his eyes, but Harry didn't miss the smile that was playing on his lips.


	24. The Cunning Thief

"Are you thinking about your presents?"

Harry's voice pulled Draco out of his fire-induced trance. He wasn't sure when his parents had left, but now it was just Harry, the brightly-burning Yule log, and him alone in the room. 

"No," Draco said, lifting his chin. "I'm not eleven, to be thinking about presents hours before it's time to open them."

"Uh-huh." Harry leaned in a little closer to him on the sofa. "And what was it you told me the night we bought the Christmas tree for the offie?" He pretended to think. "Oh, right: It's what's under the tree that matters." 

Harry's words stung a little, but he was grinning and his tone was playful, so Draco couldn't stay upset. "I just wanted you to finally pick one," he said.

"Oh." Harry put a hand on Draco's knee, pretending, Draco thought, to idly stroke the fabric of his trousers. "That's too bad, because I was thinking of giving you your gift now. If you don't really care about it, though, I guess it can wait until morning..."

Draco panicked. He covered Harry's hand with his own, stilling it in its course up his thigh. "Er, Harry – this is really embarrassing, but I forgot to get you something. So much has happened – "

Harry cut him off. "It's okay. I didn't have a clue what to buy you at the last minute. But then an opportunity presented itself, and I sort of stole something – from your father."

Draco was alarmed. "What!?"

Harry reached under a pillow and pulled out the crown of holly that Lucius had been wearing earlier. He bit his lip. "I would love it if you would wear this – and ony this – for me tonight."


	25. The Holly King

"As your king," Draco said as he moved slowly toward Harry, wearing nothing but the crown of holly, "I demand that you agree to some resolutions before we proceed with tonight's…festivities."

Harry dropped slowly to his knees. He inclined his head in a show of respect, but continued to gaze upon Draco's beauty through his eyelashes. "And what might these resolutions be, Your Majesty?"

Draco drew himself up. "First, you will kiss me every day – without exception. No mistletoe required."

Something fluttered in Harry's chest. He tried to make his answer sound reverent rather than eager. "Yes, Your Majesty." 

"Second," Draco continued without a pause, "you will shag me thoroughly on a regular basis. And I mean _thoroughly_."

Harry grinned. "It would be an honour, Your Majesty."

"And third –" Draco lifted Harry's chin, and the latter bit down lightly on Draco's thumb. "You will stop being so jealous, and rest in the knowledge that I've never felt this way about anyone else."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Harry took Draco's hand and pressed a kiss to the centre of his palm. He felt a stirring low in his belly, because Draco's cock had filled out and was jutting out right in front of Harry's face. But that was nothing next to what Draco was saying, so he kept his eyes locked on his lover's grey ones and tried to ignore the rest.

Draco must have noticed where Harry's attention had gone, for he smirked and let go of Harry's chin. "Go ahead, suck it."

Still looking at Draco, Harry licked his lips and dipped his head forward. At the first swipe of his tongue on his cock, the Holly King came undone.


End file.
